


When The Golden Boy Dies(And I'm The One Who Killed Him)

by HaleTheYoungbloodSinnerKilljoy30120



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Blood, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleTheYoungbloodSinnerKilljoy30120/pseuds/HaleTheYoungbloodSinnerKilljoy30120
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I look up at him to ask, "Patrick, do you want to die? Am I making you want to die?" He silently nods, not opening his eyes, not evening out his rapid breaths. I almost feel bad for him, but I have no empathy for people who don't do what I say. He disobeyed me, refused to have sex with me, this is only fair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Golden Boy Dies(And I'm The One Who Killed Him)

It's a shame. He's so pretty. Really it's a waste, dispose of his life this way. I might miss him y̶o̶u̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶o̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶b̶o̶d̶y̶,̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶r̶. I'll only miss his body. He does have a glorious body, doesn't he? Full, red lips. Fleshy, pale thighs. Piercing blue eyes . But it's the thick, crimson blood coursing through his veins I want to see the most s̶l̶i̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶s̶t̶s̶ ̶a̶l̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶,̶ ̶g̶o̶d̶d̶a̶m̶n̶ ̶i̶t̶. 

 

I gaze longingly at him. His eyes are flooded with fear. Hands tied over his head. Delicious body is trembling. Legs spread wide. Cock hard. Nude. Beautiful. I want to devour him. He's here, at my mercy. I can do whatever I please. I can fuck him. I can torture him y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶. I. Can. Kill. Him. I moan at the thought and he shivers. 

 

Grabbing a small, sharp knife I slowly walk over to my bed, where he's kneeling. I look into his pleading eyes and grin, laughing coldly. "Are you ready to bleed out, Princess?" I growl out in his ear and he swallows what I assume to be bile. I frown and lightly drag the knife along his chest, blood beading out of the new incision. I lick the blood away from the gushing wound, savoring the salty, rich taste. 

 

He whimpers, screams, and begs for mercy behind the gag, music to my rhythmically starved ears. His pain is so evident, so perfect and I am the cause. I grab a smaller, sharper knife to carve my initials into his side, making him tremble and cry out. A bloody P.W. stamped into his skin permanently. 

 

I thought this day would come sooner, but this boy interested me. He was different. He sang when all of the others screamed. He tapped out beats on the steel cage floor when all of the others sobbed. He lay silently, contently while the others shrieked in fear. I would be lying if I said I was never attracted to him. He is beautiful. Pale, warm skin. Soft, dark blonde hair. Kind, inviting eyes. 

 

Why am I killing him? I love him- no, I only love his body. Even if I did love him he could never love me back. My mind is hell, full of sin, vengeance, hatred, everything he should never see. I snap out of my thoughts when he jolts, whining into the gag and rubbing his wrists raw on the rope around his wrists. 

 

I should at least let him die in pleasure. I drop the knife on the bed and lift him up by his plush hips, laying on my back and setting myself under his hips. I massage his ass in my hands and he backs up into my touch. I grin and reach up to undo the gag from his mouth, "I want you to scream, sweetie." I say.

 

I slap his ass hard and he lets out a mixture of a sob and a scream. I grin before grabbing his ass again and lowering it onto my face, licking and occasionally nipping at his hole. Above me, he is a crying, trying to get away I dig my fingers into his ass, hard enough to bruise. He thrashes around above me, trying to pull away. I get out from under him and take his face in my hands.

 

We stare into each other's eyes silently for a few moments, just reading each other. He looks so, so distraught. I don't really blame him, he has a lot to live for. An amazing career, money, wife, kid... And of course I have all of those things too, I just prefer killing to any of them. 

 

The blood contrasts beautifully on his porcelain skin as I drag the knife along his thighs, creating deep gashes in his skin. I look up at his face which seems to be emotionless as I continue making cuts in various areas of his skin. "Good boy, not even flinching," I tell him, and he sighs, closing his eyes. 

 

Why doesn't he look sad? He just looks blank. Normally it's fear or shock or disgust or remorse. He looks almost relieved, aside from his uneven breaths, which are probably only from the cold anyway. His red lips are now a pretty violet color, saturation has been completely stolen from his skin, he looks like a ghost. The kind of ghosts the other ghosts worship for their beauty, that's him.

 

I look up at him to ask, "Patrick, do you want to die? Am I making you want to die?" He silently nods, not opening his eyes, not evening out his rapid breaths. I almost feel bad for him, but I have no empathy for people who don't do what I say. He disobeyed me, refused to have sex with me, this is only fair. 

 

He's going to die, but I need to hear his golden voice one more time. The smooth, powerful sound he uniquely and beautifully produces with his throat. The throat that I have bruised and grabbed and abused, that extraordinary throat. The throat I am going to slit in a few moments. The throat that I will now ruin forever. I need to hear him sing one last time, though, "Sing for me, please." I tell him.

 

He sighs exasperatedly but begins singing, "How cruel is the golden rule? When the lives we lived are only golden-plated. And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me. Though I carried karats for everyone to see." I see a few tears slip from his eyes, which I wipe away, thoughtfully. His voice is raw, emotional, yet so clear at the same time. 

 

"And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies. And all the lovers with no time for me. And all of the mothers raise their babies. To stay away from me...", he sings, his tone reeks of gloom and pain, but his face continues to remain emotionless. He finally opens his ocean blue eyes and stares into my whiskey ones. He looks accepting, accepting of his impending death.

 

That would be enough to make me kill him here and now, but I want him to finish his last song. The last song the golden boy will ever sing is Golden, how painfully ironic. "Tongues on the sockets of electric dreams. Where the sewage of youth drowned the spark of my teens. And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me. Though I carried karats for everyone to see.", he sings this softly, still staring into my eyes, waiting. Waiting for me to take his life away.

 

"And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies.", he sings while I grab a sterile knife from my bag. "And all the lovers with no time for me.", I wipe the knife off once more, just to be safe not that it matters anyway. "And all of the mothers raise their babies.", I look into his eyes and he looks into mine. "To stay away from me.", I bring my face close to his and put the knife to his throat lightly.

 

"And pray they don't grow up to be...", he sings and closes his eyes. I press my lips to his and slide the knife through his throat, slitting it open while I kiss the last of his life away. He falls limp against the restraints above him. The golden boy is dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, I'm going to hell.


End file.
